BabyMama & The Baby Boos and Hoos

Surprise: our sweet baby girl is now over a month old! This past month there have been a billion things - big and small - that I've thought to share. But, #NewbornLife has meant very little time and mental energy to string thoughts together, let alone write them out. As such, going to start with another mommy-brain* related topic that is very prevalent in the fourth trimester: baby blues.

Approximately 80% of new moms experience what is referred to as “baby blues.” When referencing baby blues related symptoms, articles often talk about irritability (partly due to lack of sleep), new moms feeling unfit or overall parenting anxiety, sadness etc. Women are told that this is a mostly harmless, short-lived period of hormonal flux that ends within a few weeks of giving birth. They and their partners are told how to recognize if it’s something more sinister - in the form of postpartum depression (which can sometimes surface several weeks later).

For me personally, I had more what I refer to as the “baby boo hoos” - in which my face would suddenly start leaking and refuse to stop for a myriad of reasons. Most of which seemed silly at the time (and still do now). But, this is motherhood, so, I figure I’ll do as mothers do and overshare. Here were a few of the many moments that sparked my Niagara Falls:

• I started off strong by openly weeping at the lovely nurse from the day shift at the Mom and Baby Recovery Ward. She walked us out when we were getting discharged from the hospital. As Andy brought around the car, I sobbed because everyone was just so kind to us, and how could I ever thank them enough, and they were there for us even with staffing shortages and a pandemic, and all the things. But also, would things continue to go well when we got home? Or was it all because of the excellent staff that we'd even made it that far (to day three)? What would become of us without their support?? (Spoiler alert: we're okay.)
• Then, more tears later that day and throughout the following weeks, because I was just so happy that the baby and I were both home safe and nothing bad had happened to us. It had all gone fine. All my worst fears had not come true. All was well.
• All the messages, cards, presents - every single well wish sent me into a spiral because people were just so nice, and how did we deserve such kindness, and how wonderful for our daughter to have such loving people in her life. Alllll the feels. 
• In the same vein of kindness, every time the grandmas left or were set to leave, tears. Tears thinking about the women who raised us, watching us raise a new generation. Grandmas always get me. Always and forever.
• That first week home, laying down for tiny bouts of sleep, feeling my deflated bump, knowing our baby girl was no longer in there. No more kicks or wiggles. After weeks of daily kick counts and being hyper aware of each movement, instead there was just nothing. A squishy void. Because I had graduated from being the vessel. Our little one was now a part of me in a different way, after so many months being as close as one can be. It was also a tissue grabbing affair anytime I left to run an errand or do anything without her - knowing that each trip was the further away from each other we have physically ever been. Even just after delivery, seeing her on the other side of the room, knowing she was only going to continue to get further from me. That she'll have so many adventures ahead without me. It was like some weird Golden Compass dæmon thing, where feeling her so far away was almost painful. Even though like, I was just ten minutes away doing a pickup at Target. Mom tears for days.
• Holding her on my chest for a snuggle or a burp/spit-up sesh. Seeing how small she is. How her entire self takes up such a tiny space on this earth. Knowing that in my lifetime she'll never been this frail or dependent again. That she's at the precipice of a great life. Feeling all that potential as a warm squishy babe. Sobs of awe. Sobs that I hope I'll be there to see her dream those dreams and make them come true.
• Which leads to the big one, that I keep blubbering about every time my husband brings it up as an example of weird things I bawl about... we were talking about how our little one will likely live to see the next century, even though we probably won't. And how fascinating that was. But what struck me most is that, when that happens, she'll be a little old lady. Our sweet tiny baby will have lived out so much of her life and potentially be in the company of kids or grandkids of her own, and we'll be just memories, alive only in her mind. Not likely there to share it with her (we saw Y2K, I'm cool not doing another round). But, the thought of her as a little old lady breakkkks me, for no good reason.**

Overall, I wouldn't call it the Baby Blues, and I’d say I didn’t have just the  Boo-Hoos either. Because in addition to the random cries, I’d also have other flares in the scares. More so paranoid anxiety flares that were likewise related to hormone flux and lack of sleep? Or some such thing. These were what I just call the “Baby Boos” (because scary). Some examples:

• Within a half hour of arriving home, our newborn officially solely in our care, I had a total freak-out meltdown. Due to Covid restrictions, no one had been allowed to come see us at the hospital. So, the grandmas and my sister were set to come see us at home shortly after our arrival. I wanted to get the hospital bracelets off so they could see us looking less clinical. Grabbing a pair of regular scissors and running on very little sleep (also, with my body completely broken/destroyed from the first few days of recovery following a long labor), I went to cut the bracelets off. Our little girl let out a giant shriek and I was completely convinced that I had literally cut one of her fingers off. Like, I was surer I was going to see gushing blood and an actual finger on the table. I threw the scissors down and held her and was completely hysterical until my husband intervened with a much smaller pair of scissors, quickly cut the bracelets off, and assured me I had NOT maimed our daughter.
• The first few weeks, I would wake up thinking I was co-sleeping and panic. I'd think I had the baby in my arms, under the covers, and would wake up my husband, babbling/shouting that he had to take the baby from me and put it in the bassinet. That she shouldn’t be in the bed. All this while gesturing wildly at my phone or a pillow or a stuffed animal, half-asleep, convinced that whatever object was a baby. It was never a baby. It was always just my fear manifesting in a creepy way in the middle of some sleepless night. 

The mind plays terrible tricks at such a vulnerable point in the pregnancy journey. The fourth trimester is a roller coaster of emotions. I tried to ride that wave of boos and hoos with as much grace as I could, but I'm fairly certain I looked like a nutter most of the time. May our newest addition not think her mama is crazy until a future date, when I'm back to normal insanity. And may normal insanity resume someday soon. Til then, let's just all give new moms a break when their hormones fill a scene.

I just want to hug and squeeze and cry all over you, wee bébé!

*This child has literally tapped most of my intelligence and brain power and taken it for her own. I now have the IQ and processing power of a squishy rock. What’s a squishy rock? I don’t even know... Go team.

**Although, if you've ever seen me watch 'Interstellar' - the little old lady scene in that is absolutely just me dissolved into tears. So, maybe this tracks.